


i rise up in smoke around your eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Jane Eyre - All Media Types
Genre: Consent is obtained but under weird circumstances so, Cunnilingus, Dark, F/F, Femslash, Gothic Romance, If you need more details please check the notes!, Smut, The Rape/Non-Con warning is to be super duper extra careful just FYI, This isn't my usual fluffy fare, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She hears a sound in the night, and makes the mistake of letting her ghost know she's awake.





	i rise up in smoke around your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler-y content warnings are at the end! Inspired by this [scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9ZCjYSWkXE) which was cut from the 2011 film. (12.56-14.06) Title from _If I Burn_ by Emilie Autumn.

When she had first awoken, it was to the gentle rustling of fabric, and Jane wondered if perhaps the maid had come to wake her early. But the light behind her eyelids was not there – and upon opening, there were only the grey, muted tones of the night as it began to end.

She turned her head, just a little, towards the sound – hoping it was not a mouse, and she would not have to beg someone to set traps for her.

It was not a mouse, though, which crouched by her wardrobe, swaying gently, like a tuft of grass in a summer breeze.

“Adèle?” Jane whispered, confused in the bleariness of sleep still.

The figure rose to its full height, and Jane stared, still uncomprehending.

“Sophie?”

It turned, slowly, towards her. Within an instant, Jane felt the foolishness of calling out to an unknown figure in the night, rummaging about her room with motives only God could know. Wakefulness overtook her senses within seconds, yet she was still paralysed with terror, and confusion.

_The veil_. The figure was wearing her wedding veil, the fine ivory lace contrasting with a worn, once-white gown beneath it. A woman, then – or a phantom.

It – _she_ – gathered the delicate fabric of the veil towards her face and pulled it tight, over the skull. The sheer fabric revealed a ghoulishly pale face with dark, sunken eyes embedded into it. Her mouth opened as she pulled the veil with her fingers apart, tearing it to reveal a look of ecstasy. She sighed, and Jane’s heart began to beat with a strange, desperate feeling, some awful mixture of fear and curiosity.

The phantom pushed back the veil, over her head. The movement caused her face to fall into shadow, and Jane squeezed her eyes shut as the gaze from the figure fell upon her.

With her eyes shut there were only sensations – sounds – the scent of dust. A creaking floorboard signaled the figure’s approach, and then –

Hands were upon her, Jane was sure, hands smaller than Mr. Rochester’s, who was the only one to have touched her like this. They slid up her sides, over the covers, inch by inch. Jane’s heart beat so loudly she was sure that the phantom must have felt it, but if she did, it did not deter her. Her face came close. Jane felt it, through the breath against her cheek, harsh in her ears. A quiet hum revealed the phantom’s voice. It was a little troubled, perhaps, by its highly-strung tone, but almost calming in its child-like nature, and that, strangely, caused Jane to squirm as the phantom’s skin finally brushed against her own.

There was no hope of pretending to be asleep now. Yet still Jane did not move. She waited to be killed, or else live.

The phantom brushed her nose against Jane’s cheek, and Jane tried not to shiver with it. The mouth of her ghost moved to her ear, trailing against her skin.

The voice was soft, and delicate, when it was revealed. Jane was right to think it highly-strung.

“He did not ask,” it whispered, the sound of it travelling right through Jane’s body. “I ask. I always ask.”

Their breathing in the darkness and the silence of the house was all that disturbed the unsettled air.

“Ask what?” Jane said, below it all.

“You are getting married,” the phantom murmured, trembling above her. “I was married. Do you want to know what happens?”

“I know what a marriage requires,” Jane replied, holding herself still.

“But do you wish to know it _all_?”

And Jane –

Jane had had enough of the secrets of Thornfield.

“ _Yes_ ,” she whispered, trembling.

The phantom did not speak as she rose up, pulled back the covers, and swung a leg over Jane’s body to sit pressed against her middle. And Jane did not open her eyes.

Long hair tickled Jane’s face and neck as the phantom leaned in, her breath against Jane’s lips. The phantom’s hands reached down, taking a gentle hold of Jane’s wrists, before pulling them in towards her breasts. Jane did not gasp at the feeling, but her breathing quickened as she felt her ghost’s nipples harden under her palms, warm and inviting. Before she could stop herself, Jane pinched them, slowly, drawing them out through the thin fabric of the off-white chemise. The phantom sighed the same sigh she had sighed as she tore through Jane’s wedding veil, and it ignited a flicker of warmth which spread through Jane’s body and down to the core of her being in seconds.

For a spirit, Jane’s ghost felt very real.

For a few moments more, the phantom let Jane test her limits, rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefingers, but soon she pulled Jane’s hands away, and pushed them back against Jane’s pillow. Jane went quietly, but not without regret for the loss of the full and warm feeling of her ghost’s breasts in her palms.

The phantom leaned in once more, but this time, she simply held Jane’s hands next to her head, as she brushed her lips against Jane’s neck. Jane felt a shiver wrack her body, suddenly, causing her legs to twitch against her will. She thought she could hear the phantom huff a tiny laugh, feel a smile curve against the sensitive skin of her neck.

Finally, though, the phantom began to kiss her neck, gently at first – with little more than a few presses of her lips against Jane’s skin, making her way down to Jane’s collar bone. But the phantom quickly changed pace, opening her mouth, running her tongue up and down Jane’s collar bone so many times that Jane felt her whole body ignite with sensation, causing her to let out an involuntary gasp. The second the sound left her mouth, the phantom began to suck, hard, and the pain of it made Jane cry out. The mouth left her skin in an instant, before returning, to press a kiss of apology against the tender spot.

For a moment there was no movement, the figure above Jane still, contemplating her. But Jane’s body felt strange and restless, in a way it had rarely felt, but for a few moments in the past few weeks of her engagement. Jane knew she could end her strange dream in that moment.

But she did not want to.

She turned her head aside and presented her neck to the phantom, asking for more. Her ghost obliged, leaning down to gently bite at the out-standing tendon of Jane’s neck. The mouth against Jane’s skin was astonishingly potent in giving her pleasure, but that was nothing compared to the next moment, when the figure ducked her head to nose Jane’s chemise away from her chest, revealing Jane’s hard nipple to the cold air. It was not exposed for long, however, before a warm, wet mouth came down around it, licking hard, relentlessly.

Jane felt her whole body tense in pleasure, drawing her as tight as a bowstring, causing her head to fall back and her chest to rise in search of more. Her teeth were gritted together, for she feared making another sound, lest the sensations should stop – but they did not. For several minutes more, the wonderful agony of feeling continued, only broken by her ghost’s decision to switch sides, and bring even stronger sensations of crackling firelight beneath Jane’s skin.

The sensations stopped, though, as they must, and Jane lay, panting slightly, wondering what would come next. She did not wonder long, for the figure shuffled upwards, and lifted one hand from Jane’s wrist. Jane heard the rustling of fabric, and felt the hand return to her wrist, and in the next moment – something warm against her lips. Opening her mouth without thinking, Jane was somehow unsurprised and even gratified to discover that the phantom had freed her breasts, and was holding herself still above Jane, that Jane might suck them in return.

Jane did, eagerly, wishing to understand the pleasure that was given her. She had the right of it within a minute, pressing her tongue over and over again to her ghost, sucking at intervals. She curiously listened for her partner’s reactions, and was not disappointed. The phantom gasped and groaned, quietly, but with more freedom that Jane allowed herself. She bucked her hips against Jane’s stomach, and Jane felt a secret place inside her throb in response.

At length, Jane’s neck grew strained, and she lay back gasping for breath. She could feel that her thighs had grown slick with the wetness leaking out of her. It was not an unknown sensation to her. She had awoken from dreams in the past with the feeling of it, and rolled over uneasily, dissatisfied.

But her ghost would not allow for her to be dissatisfied tonight.

Moving down Jane’s body, the phantom was obliged to let go of Jane’s wrists, but Jane left them where they were, telling herself she was dreaming a most wonderful dream, if it were to continue beyond this point. Serious though she was, quiet and little as she had made herself over many long years at Lowood, Jane felt wanton now, wild with need. As long as she dreamed, she could allow it to continue.

The phantom pushed up Jane’s chemise, exposing her lower half to the chilly night air. Jane, without being prompted, spread her legs, and felt her reward in the smile her ghost pressed against the inside of her thigh. A sigh escaped her lips as she felt more kisses and licks pressed to her legs, culminating in a gentle nip nearest her sex.

There was a pause of several moments, during which Jane was tempted to open her eyes, suddenly afraid. Was her ghost looking at her, contemplating her countenance? Or, perhaps, the secret place that Jane had so freely shown? The thought made her anxious, and bold, all at once. She pressed her legs apart even further.

That was all the encouragement needed. The phantom dove in, without hesitation, and licked a long stripe up against the wetness Jane could feel between her legs. The feeling of it was strange, unexpected – Jane had never known such a thing could be done, but she quickly found herself enjoying it, sucking in a breath of air. Her ghost attached her mouth to Jane’s sex with such vigor, such enthusiasm, that Jane felt her knees buckle with it, and a long moan left her mouth as she felt the phantom’s tongue move inside her, her ghost seeming not to need to breathe.

But breathe she apparently must need to do after all, for she drew back, inhaling deeply, before pushing her tongue against a different spot – a spot which caused Jane’s legs to twitch violently, the feeling of it so good Jane could hardly stand more.

She had to stand more, though. Her ghost flickered her tongue against the spot inside her that felt so good, and Jane’s legs kicked out, again, and again, until the tongue slowed to a gentle sucking. The racing, jolting sensation inside Jane restlessly picked up its pace, like the howling of a gale, until she was on the very edge of a precipice she had never before known.

Yet her ghost ceased, rising from her place, and Jane felt the loss of her with a cry.

“Antoinette,” a voice said, from above.

Jane did not understand.

“Call me Antoinette when it happens.”

"When what happens?" Jane asked, straining her ears for the sound of her ghost's voice, despite the near-silence of the room.

"You will know it," the voice returned.

Jane paused - but nodded her assent. She had come this far.

And then –

Then her ghost began slowly running her tongue along the spot, relentlessly thorough in her careful attention to Jane’s sex, and it was all too much, all at once –

Jane felt the wave of pleasure break over her so torturously slowly that she thought she might be dying from it, that it might have been Heaven’s gates opening for her.

But no. This feeling was not Heavenly. This feeling was bodily, and so utterly, completely overwhelming, that Jane almost forgot it could not be real. Besides which, she knew now how to keep her promise.

“Antoinette,” she sighed, her voice almost lost in the quiet room.

Jane brought her hand down, regretfully, to stop her ghost’s mouth, by touching the back of her head. Her hair was knotted and dry, but as she pulled back and breathed heavily, Jane thought it a wonderful thing, to feel so real.

She could not speak, could not ask for what she wanted.

But her ghost – her _Antoinette_ – as always, knew.

Antoinette rose and moved back up the bed to lie beside Jane. Jane rolled towards her, eyes still closed, desperate not to wake up now, even though her body was exhausted by their exertions and pulling her back towards sleep.

Antoinette reached over Jane’s body, and took her hand, and guided it towards the warmth between her open legs. Amazed by how wet she felt, Jane almost commented on it, but then, had Jane not been the same? Was she not still slick, her thighs sliding against each other, even now?

Antoinette pushed Jane’s fingers not inside her, shying away from her entrance, but towards that sweet place that on Jane’s body had caused her so much pleasure. To her surprise, Jane felt a nub beneath her fingertips, and as she stroked it, she heard Antoinette let out a low moan, unashamed. Jane stroked it once more, and felt it twitch at the same moment as the leg against her jumped. She smiled, and began to stroke in earnest, just as she remembered the tongue against her, slowly, keeping a constant pace. The bucking of Antoinette’s hips did not stop, until in a moment of stillness, they rose from the bed, Antoinette’s back arching as a long sigh was drawn out of her by the peak of her pleasure. Jane kept stroking until the hand at her wrist pushed her away.

There was silence, and warmth, for many long minutes. And for those reasons no one could blame Jane for succumbing to that which she had been interrupted from – a sleep as deep and dreamless as if it had never been stopped. She did not feel the hand against her cheek, which soothed the redness there, before it left her cold once more.

When Jane awoke, it took her several minutes to understand what had happened the previous night. When she did, she blushed to remember the wantonness of her dreams – the shameless delight she had taken in the pleasures of her body. And yet she would not be ashamed of her natural feelings, those thoughts which the unconscious mind explores with abandon in slumber.

She opened her eyes, ready to face the day, and forget her dreams.

Only, as she sat up in her bed, she looked over to the floor – and there lay her wedding veil, torn, dirtied, and damning.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: Bertha comes into Jane's room at night and destroys Jane's wedding veil. She leans over Jane in her sleep, which scares Jane, but asks for her consent to a "wedding night". Jane agrees, out of a dark curiosity, and because she half-convinces herself she's dreaming, and Bertha performs cunnilingus on her. Jane in turn fingers Bertha. The next morning Jane wakes to discover her destroyed veil and realises what happened was real.


End file.
